Monday, June 30, 2008

I was profoundly saddened by the news of UGA VI's passing. For those of you that don't get SEC football, leave now. For those that do, I am reposting a blog I did about my granddad a few moons back who taught me the ways of a Georgia fan. Two more years and I can start looking for a house in Savannah. I can't wait!

God bless Jimmy Harper...

Many moons ago, my crabby granddad saw fit to teach me about football. My uncle played for UGA in the 70s and his parents had season tickets on the 50 yard line for 20 something years. From the time I could walk, he toted me around, making sure that I was wearing the requisite red and black, singing all the songs the Red Coat band did and loving UGA as much as the people that got to take him home after each game. He was the meanest man in the world to others but man, he loved me. Because of him, I love football.

For the many years we were apart when I lived in Germany, he methodically photographed every game, wrote notes on every picture and sent them to me with ticket stubs and programs. My favorite were always the Sugar Bowl tickets.

Granddad would have been happy to see the DAWGS in the Sugar Bowl tonight. And damn, I do look good in red and black...:)

Sunday, June 29, 2008

After many moons away, I am opting to jump back into my old Sunday morning routine. I was so sad that I cried over Tim's untimely passing but I still turn on the TV, because it's just what I do on Sundays. Imagine my surprise when flipping through, I find Lieberman campaigning in favor of McCain. What an ass. I already have an issue with McCain forgetting what his own party did to him in South Carolina, but come on Joe, you were one of MINE. It's insulting.

This is just like Young and the Restless...for those of us that have been around TOO long, aren't you just a bit confused about how exactly Michael is now an upstanding citizen after being a stalking freak? Or how about former stripper Nicki? Or even Victor that held what's her name in his "dungeon" in the basement? Crazy. Now I understand why politics is such a soap opera...

Fortunately, they had General Clark to balance things out. Now my affinity for both Clark and Obama is well known, but Lieberman makes me crazy when he starts listing all the potential consequences of leaving Iraq (this translates into fear, fear, fear).

I just have one thing to say...stop trying to sell me your bullshit. I am a military brat. I was a military dependant and I went through hell before my life was turned upside down, crushed, and given back to me in a pile to put back together alone. I have a degree in Government, I have been a delegate for county and state many times and a national delegate in 2004 to Boston. I have worked in campaigns and I have run them. I am working on a Master's Degree and will go on to teach the things I know. This is what your bullshit can't cover:

Everyone knows that lies got us into this mess and that the administration willing sold Powell down the river to get what they wanted.

The only weapons of mass destruction in the Middle East are owned by the US.

There was no plan to ensure the political, diplomatic and economic stability in the region.

There was no exit strategy.

There was no plan to take care of families back home or soldiers when they got in trouble.

There is no plan for ensuring the soldiers futures or transition to civilian life.

Dick is really Darth Vader.

Now McCain is giving lame excuses of why he doesn't support expanded education benefit to veterans. Are you afraid that expanded knowledge base within the armed services will mean people will tell you their opinion? That more will push the bounds of hierarchy and say hell no, I am not leading men and women into that? How can you be against educating people willing to die for this country?

It doesn't make sense.

You know what else doesn't make sense? The dismal percentage of registered voters that show up to vote on election day. This country routinely posts less than a 30% turn out for elections. WHY ARE YOU LETTING 30% OF THIS COUNTRY DECIDE WHAT HAPPENS TO US? If you don't vote, you can't bitch. If you do nothing I ever ask of you this year, consider this my one thing worth doing.

Embrace your right to BITCH. Get off your couch, volunteer for a candidate and show up to vote. We need everyone, everywhere. If you aren't registered, do so NOW. I care and work so you have the right to do whatever the hell you want. My biggest wish this year is that you decide to help me out a bit but getting involved and getting out the vote.

Embrace your right to BITCH. Oh, and consider sending Joe a message and tell him why he is such a tool...

Friday, June 27, 2008

It was bound to happen sooner or later…sins of the fathers as they say. I am just beginning to sweat when a teenager says “Can I ask you a question?” so I anticipate the frequency of these types of things will increase. Routinely I go down my list of “How bad can the question be?” and go through the first few in my head:

“How old where you when you had sex the first time?”

“Have you ever smoked weed?”

“Did you drink alcohol before you turned 21?”

There are others, ones I won’t recount, nor will I give my reasons for being concerned. I will, however, say that I was completely unprepared for finding out that my Little Monkey now has the ability to forge my signature at 7 years old.

No. I am not kidding.

Evidence was delivered to me via the “family mailbox” where monkeys are invited to write a note about anything they need to say but don’t necessarily want to talk about. It was attached to a note that said “Send Me A Note” and note was underlined several times to illustrate the bitter disappointment from the 7 year old that I hadn't caught up from all the correspondence she left me yesterday. (Stupid me, giving them a forum for self-expression…UGH. Now I get pressure to answer my emails in a timely manner AND hand crafted kid notes!)

Were she so crafty to get someone to let her pass a check, she could do so. If she wanted to skip school, go to the lake and break several laws for the 6 hours she should have been in class, she could write her excuse note, turn it in, and be done with it. If she had money for a stripper class, she could sign up for said class AND sign the authorization from her mom to allow a minor to take a stripper class.

They would all think I had an affinity for red pens. I could see that, it is, after all, my favorite color.

Many moons back, in one or another of my political incarnations, I had to get stamps made as an election judge. Here in Texas, the judge has to sign the ballots, in red. To speed the time folks have to wait (and indeed during a general election when we want to get every good liberal a chance to cast a vote) you have self-inking stamps so that you can go quickly.

Apparently Little Monkey’s craft cabinet is the safe harbor for all self-inking stamps who are not currently being used else where. There I also found a “work completed” stamp which strikes me as stupid because if your work is completed, don’t you KNOW it’s completed? I suspect this must have belonged to the other parent.

So be advised, should you receive some odd message from me with my signature in red, disregard it. It’s from the cheeky Little Monkey.

Luckily there's too much good stuff out there for me to have to work too hard on a morning I don't feel like it...

From my fav site EVER, Heather shows us why it's probably not a good idea to do a cleanse (or at least talk to a doctor first). Thank God I haven't started it yet...I almost forgot that stupid lemonade and pepper one that made me puke for two hours just on the first day. Gonna keep my toxins a few days longer, thanks!

For a daily dose of beautiful, stroll over to Gingatao. This is one of my favorites because it's just so sweet.

This one made me laugh my ass off just cause Kinky is so damn funny no matter what he does. Texas politics, gotta love it.

Of course, I am projecting here. It's halfway over anyway so trying to make the last part swing upwards is not foolish is it? Maybe I am foolish but trying is better than sitting back and accepting failure. I'm not good with giving up. I suck at it actually. Maybe I need a lesson, anyone good at that? It makes me sick to think of it, resolving to walk away from a damn good fight...

So many moons have passed since the laughter,Foreign as it struggles past my pride to exit.Is it strained to those outside my head,Those that can not feel the cringe inside my skin.Still, I try,I laugh and send those sounds to angels.Still, I cry,Seeing those tears have no where to go.It must be tomorrow, when I wake full of dread,That I let these things pass.It must be hope, that visits me that day,When I feel that sound escape my lips.Tomorrow has the sound that I must embrace.

Friday, June 20, 2008

Tonight Little Monkey and Middle Monkey declared mandatory movie night since the new Jonas Brothers movie came out. While I confess I do not have posters of any of the bros, I tend to get giggly right along with them. Earlier this year, I took them to Nokia to see them and I admit, they come dangerously close to Green Day in terms of putting one of the most amazing live shows I have ever seen. The movie is super cute, followed by a new music video of the same so catch it tomorrow on it's second night on ABC if you are so inclined.

The funny that derived from this was following the movie, a 20 minute conversation between myself and Middle Monkey (who believes she is destined to marry Joe) over our imaginary first Thanksgiving dinner with Joe at the table. Peep some of the highlights below:

"Thank you Jesus for the food we are about to eat and my daughter marrying Joe Jonas."

"Could you pass the turkey over to Joe, you really don't need any more."

"Joe, has anyone told you today how HOT you are?"

"Cranberry sauce Joe?"

"Woo Hoo, picture time, put Joe in the middle. Hey, move over, you are crushing his jacket. Give Joe some room to smile!"

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Really bad things happen to good people. It is always going to be that way. Pain is a word that you think you know until it slices away parts of your life and soul. The idea that it will ever get better, that you can fix any part of yourself, that you could ever imagine feeling anything again is foreign. Often, just someone trying to get you to understand that from the outside vacillates between annoying and insane. I am not interested in any one's idea of what I am going through or how to heal. This pain belongs to me. I have to be the one to decide what to do with it.

Today I reread the first poem I ever had published and wept. That 15 year old had no idea what real, destructive, all encompassing pain was. She was still an optimist:

I'm surrounded by yesterdays,Forever memories that don't fade away.Constructing tomorrows from what used to be,The most important to me.Dreams that float in my mind,No order of any kind.Creating happiness from mere thoughts,For happiness is always sought.I, romanticist, as they say?Well, my dreams are good today.

I was seeing life through a fairy tale lens. What amazes me still is that it took me 23 years to find out that is not what it is really like. How do you explain this stuff to kids? How do I help my kids, really my girls, not be so surprised about what life can do when they think they they have every single thing they ever wanted and love deeper than they thought possible? How do I inspire them to dream, be excited and accepting of the great things they are destined to? How do I pass on joy?

I have to convince myself that fairy tales are possible...even if optimism has eluded me all these many months past.

So I try. I really try. Some days, I am better than others. I try hard to push past the pain and learn a lesson EVERY SINGLE DAY. It is hard. It pisses me off, yet still, I get up and I really try. This week, while listening to The Secret audio version on my commute for about the 100th time, a story stood out, advice I decided to take. I won't bore you with the details but it was a gentleman that creates visualization boards, what he wants his life to look like, things he wants to have, the way he wants to live. Once he has those things, he creates a new one and thus far, the universe continues to reward his work.

What can it hurt? I crave the bliss and hope of an idealistic, positive person. I desire the ability to give into my wants and strike a balance between impulse and restriction. I have new places to visit, new foods to try, new things to learn, new friends to meet...and peace. I am thankful for the peace that is headed my way. I can't wait to relax and breathe. That is my one fresh wish.

Ancient Mommy Secret to keep busy during the summer...make scribble cookies! We save our broken crayons in a basket until we have enough and then recycle them. The kids keep busy coming up with different color combos and I don't have to say for the third time "TURN OFF THE TV". Simple instructions:

1. Peel off paper, sort into muffin tin cups2. Bake at 200 degrees for 30 minutes, check to ensure that all crayons are melted and remove from oven.3. Let cool for one hour, pop scribble cookies out of the pan and COLOR!

Sometimes, it's just better to walk out of the room. Seven year olds have a definite sense of how their worlds work, whether we agree with them or not. I am going to be checking the clock every afternoon though, this may explain A LOT!

Saturday, June 14, 2008

I admit it, I pine away over Craig. This recently came to light in a rather heated debate between Middle Monkey and myself. Middle Monkey was extolling the virtues of Conan. I felt the need to enlighten her so I set the DVR to record his nightly missives. While I am always tuning in, it took a bit for me to realize that it's really because I think he is HHHHOOOOOOTTT!!!!

SERIOUSLY! Follow me on this:

1. So damn funny, funny is always better than pretty because pretty fades.

2. He IS pretty, cause hey, it DOES help...hehehe.

3. The accent...one word, YUMMY!

4. He is so HOT that my title line transliterates to HINDU...FRRREEEAAAAKKYYYY!

5. His self-depreciating, honest humor is so SEXY!

If you haven't checked him out yet, go see why I Love Craig Ferguson! Show him some love...his monologues are legendary.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

And my dear, that is completely irrelevant. Hitting kids on the head with a Wiffle Ball Bat is funny, no? Funny is as funny does, right Forrest?

Need an easy way to unwind?

Just take a simple Wiffle ball bat and chase after young children beating them on the head once you catch up. It doesn't harm them that badly and the sound alone of the hollow smacking noise is enough to relax even Mr. Uptight McAngrypants.

This is from one of my FAVORITE cyber-places, Funny or Die. If you haven't visited Funny or Die yet, it's a must. While you are over there, sign up for the newsletter so you will get little nougaty balls of funny delivered straight to your email box! They also include their favorite links...this week, check out Cute Overload I dare you to go over there and NOT go "AWWWWWW..."

And if that's not funny, check out this string of text messages from 3-Oh-I-Need-A-Candy-Bar-'Clock:

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Monday, June 9, 2008

After a brief conversation I had today in which I was recounting how I would like to hurl forks at my boss and poke his eyes out (which may or may not be PMS induced) I realized my main drive for avoiding "attempted manslaughter" and inflicting "bodily harm" is mostly because I just wouldn't do well in jail. Seriously, I am not even what you would define as "girly" and this is a situation that would make me scream like one. Some things to ponder:

1. NO BELTS. Orange looks decent on me but I have to draw the line at jumpsuits. That's a fashion choice I just don't get. I have only recently lost enough weight that I can now wear a belt but because of that nasty suicide side effect, they confiscate all belts when they check you in. You would find me there, in a heap of orange canvas, on the floor of the intake room, sobbing..."Must define the waste...". UGH.

2. NO PEDICURES. No matter how much work you have done or how much moisturizer you use, the quickest way to tell someone's age is too look at their hands and feet. Hands may defy age some from the deferred benefit of helping apply all that moisturizer but have you ever seen old lady feet. BLECH. That, my dears, will not be me.

3. NO STRAIGHT MEN. The phrase "girl on girl action" does nothing for me. Seriously.

4. NO REAL FOOD. While I am the first to advocate E Z Cheese and Moon pies, I can not survive on lunch room food. I barely made it through elementary school without starving and the thought of mystery meat and stewed tomatoes makes me shudder just thinking of them.

5. NO TV TO MYSELF. I don’t get to watch much TV but I definitely have shows that I don’t miss. If someone named Bertha got between me and Heroes, LOST or Pushing Daisies, I would spend the rest of my time in solitary confinement.

OF COURSE, I would miss the monkeys. What day is truly complete without picking up dishes, candy wrappers and ground-in junk in the carpet? How could I not want to intervene in an argument, extolling the virtues of non-violent means to solve problems, all while repeating the “I have a dream” speech? Why would I not want to run out to Walgreens, 15 minutes before they close, to fill an impossible “project” list for something due the next morning? What is better than yelling for someone to let out the dogs while stepping into fresh cat puke? Is pulling an outfit out of the dryer not the best way to live? Should my immune system not have the benefit of constantly being in overdrive due to the 5 second rule? Wouldn’t I miss the debate on whose turn it is to do the dishes?

Okay, forget what I said earlier. The orange jumpsuit idea is starting to appeal to me…

Sunday, June 8, 2008

Today I had the unpleasant experience of meeting the rudest family I have had cause to witness in some time. Grandma and Mom decided to take the four walking monkeys and one in a big SUV size stroller to the movies. As the rest of us rather civilized groups waited in the lobby to be called for our line, they hung from railings, laid on floors and generally irritated everyone around them. Once they called for line up, by which there is a process of having your tickets checked before they allow you through the lane to your row, rude Mom had the four monkeys and crazy Grandma, charge the line, going under the 5 rows of straps and chrome stands, clearly placed there for a reason. This show, all for the pleasure of being in the first place to ::gasp:: wait some more. Poor monkey in the stroller, Grandma took out two people and a couple of chrome stands on her way to wrangle the four walking/jumping/loud monkeys at the front of the line.

I am bothered by the undignified display (stop laughing those of you that know the level of "undignified" we are capable of, even I have standards). A movie theater is like church, I come to see a movie to both escape and hopefully feel better because of either 1. inspiration, 2. someone else's misfortune, or 3. gratuitous sex. This is not the place for rowdy kids. Who needs 5 kids anyway? The cost of feeding these freaks must be expensive as hell.

Middle monkey responds to my grumbling with "maybe she is Catholic." Maybe she is but is that a reason to keep having rude ass kids? Middle monkey then launches into her own question and answer session about believing the Pope has sanctioned the use of condoms to prevent the spread of disease. I give her the evil eye. I don't want to be taken out by crazy Grandma wielding the baby filled stroller in the event they overhear our commentary...

Then, I notice something.

Chaos is going on around her but Mom is cool as a cucumber and smiling. Then I see it...she is wearing a flippin IPod and just turned up the volume!

I can't complain now. Now there was some small bonding that has just taken place. I may not be Catholic with 5 kids, but I totally understand the wearing of said IPod to block out the noise.

More power to you sister, just stay out of my flippin way when you pop out number six...then, I will have you committed.

Saturday, June 7, 2008

Which for the record is probably the reason that people with claustrophobia actually realize they have claustrophobia. Geeze Louise, I felt like a sardine (except alive and less salty). So now the waiting begins...::taps nails on table::

Its kinda weird, the process by which you find out if you are a little sick, or a lot sick. I imagine everyone has different levels of freak out and were I not a parent, I think my freak out level would be decidedly lower. Lots to think about and some things on my list that will bump up in priority but I came to one STUNNING conclusion.

It's all good.

Seriously.

It's totally fine.

Being sick, no matter what kind of sick it is, sucks. I will give you that. But I am insanely lucky to live the life I have. I have such funny friends. I have the best kids on the planet. I do things I want and don't wait for permission. I have been working on a "TO DO" list for over ten years, places to see, things to try, goals to accomplish and the stellar thing is, I am constantly rebuilding my list. It's awesome, I get to live a life where I don't regret ANYTHING.

Not many people can say that.

So make a list of your own. Those of you that have skydiving on the list, I am thinking August sounds like a goal to shoot for, who's going with me?

Thursday, June 5, 2008

Along with the public embarrasment of having me for a mom, middle monkey and I were trying to assign the appropriate monkey moniker to the oldest in the clan but as far has he is concerned, oldest monkey is not acceptable. After a bit of discussion and him searching for spelling mistakes in my postings, he has offered that he here in be refered to as "judgemental monkey." After much laughing at how clever we all are, he added, "with a British accent of course."

Those of you that know him, are now saying, "but of course."

I think he sounds a bit less James Bond and a bit more Dr. Frankenfurter...but that's just me.

I flippin love Urban Dictionary, if you aren't on their word of the day, you should be. So today is a phrase really that signifies you readjusting your expectations and going over failed resolutions. I always set intentions, rather than resolutions, because if you don't intend to actually do it, what's the point. This is part of my blog from December on what I "intended to get done this year":

So my dear friends, I set my intentions a few days early this year...I will loose at least another 30 pounds followed by a couple of surgical enhancements (LOL), spread the peace in my life into the lives of others, get promoted early this year, try to see more bands this year than I did last year, find someone brave enough to ride all the coasters at Six Flags with me in the same day, jump out of an airplane (okay, not by myself but in a tandem jump), complete an improv class, road trip to see Mt. Rushmore, begin to learn French and HOPEFULLY travel to a minimum of three different countries this year. Oh, and that's just for the first nine months of the year...I am still working on what to do after September but maybe you can give me some ideas? My question for you is:

WHAT DO YOU INTEND TO ACCOMPLISH THIS YEAR?

Well, I am 12 pounds down, working on finding enough peace in my life so I can share, completed the improv class and starting the next one, I've seen four or five new bands already this year, working on skydiving by August...geeze, I am EXHAUSTED!

Have you given up on yours or held fast to those resolutions from six months ago?

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

How do you get a job like this as a human? Seriously, people point and laugh at me anyway. My middle monkey had a good point too, NO MORE SHAVING. Lay in the sun, eat pieces of fruit that people hide for you to keep you busy, no flipping shaving or showering for that matter...I see no downside to this.

The Dallas Zoo just got two new gorillas and the resident male is very excited...two smelly, covered in hair roommates. Sounds like college to me!

Sunday, June 1, 2008

so this week was unbearable and then the car wouldnt start going home, causing me to miss little monkeys dance recital. she was more worried about me, than her dancing so i felt even worse. a good friend suggested i write a story for her, so, without further adieu, here ya go...

In a very hot place, in a very tiny house, there lived a princess. She spent days making magic, art and music and playing with creatures big and small. The Princess was known as Emma Delaney, ruler of all frogs, toads and creatures that hop. A pretty girl, Emma had curly hair and blue eyes and understood the importance of glue sticks and glitter. Emma liked things that were green, not because she really liked green, but because in her kingdom, she knew the frogs would be offended if she didn't. When she traveled, she took her favorite creature, Kiwi (named for a fuzzy brown fruit that was green in the middle). Kiwi liked to hop. Kiwi sometimes got out of hand, hopping and hopping, higher than Emma's head.

"Kiwi, you are a silly hopper." She said.

"Emma, you are a silly girl." Kiwi told her.

"I think that you should teach me to hop as much as you." Emma said to Kiwi one afternoon over gingerbread and punch.

"It's all about the shoes, really." Kiwi lifted one of her four legs to display for Emma her sequin covered shoes.

"Those are some nice shoes there Kiwi. Where in the kingdom did you find them?"

"I got them from Old Toad. He wanted the cheese and bread I was carrying home one day. It seemed like a good idea until I got hungry later." Kiwi picked up another piece of gingerbread and gobbled it down.

Now Emma was known as ruler of all frogs, toads and creatures that hop, but the truth is, she really wasn't fond of toads. They farted a lot and had bad breath, which according to her mom, the Queen of the Universe, were not very good manners. She really wanted some good hopping shoes but wasn't sure it was worth it to have to pay a visit to Old Toad who lived in the hall closet.

"Kiwi, can you show me how to hop like you? Maybe I am a good hopper and I don't know it? Maybe I don't NEED those hopping shoes?"

Drinking her fourth cup of punch, Kiwi stopped briefly to wipe the bits of gingerbread off her mouth. "Yes, Emma Delaney, let's have a hopping lesson. Would you like to change out of your beautiful fairy dress before we begin?"

Emma looked down at her dress. It was a pretty dress, this was for sure. It had been given to her by her fairy friend, Destiny Michelle. Destiny would understand the importance of good hopping and she did look smashing.

"I think the dress will HELP my hopping. Let's go!"

Kiwi and Emma ran from the tiny house down the lane and turned right by the bent old tree and headed down the hill to the meadow in the forest. Once they got to flat open grass, Kiwi became very serious. Emma giggled because she thought it was funny that Kiwi was her teacher. Kiwi burps a lot which might be okay in some kingdoms, but was generally discouraged in this one…unless of course you could burp the alphabet, in which case there was a trophy to earn.

"Okay, Miss Emma Delaney, put your feet like this." Emma copied Kiwi's movements, giggling still because she thought Kiwi should have on glasses and a ruler.

"Now put your hands on your waist and bend a little at the knees. Hold your mouth like this."
Emma was laughing so hard, she felt like she was going to fall over and get mud on the pretty fairy dress.

"Kiwi, I can't make my face look like that! That's goofy."

Kiwi stood straight up. "Little girl, do you want me to teach you or not?" She was very serious now.

"I'm sorry, okay, feet like this, hands here, knees bent, face like this." This time, it was Kiwi to laugh so hard she started rolling around on the ground.

"Okay Emma," she said, "That IS goofy, skip that part."

They got into position minus goofy faces and Kiwi started to count.

"One, two, and on three Emma, push everything in your body up to the sky. Okay, one, two, THREE."

Emma and Kiwi hopped high, above the grass, above the bushes, up as high as some of the trees could go. When they came down, they landed upside down, in the mud but laughing still.

"That was AWESOME Kiwi."

"You are a mighty good hopper Emma Delaney, ruler of frogs, toads and all creatures that hop. And you didn't even need the fancy shoes." Kiwi was now on her back, sticking all four sequined feet in the air.

"That was a close one Kiwi. I'm glad Old Toad loves his house in the hall, but I didn't want to have to go by there since it's well, smelly."

"Me either, Emma. He would talk me out of more food and I just don't like that. Speaking of which, can we go back and see if there is any punch left? I would really like some to wash down more gingerbread with."

"Of course Kiwi. I always have more gingerbread and punch for you."

So the Princess of frogs, toads and creatures that hop, walked out of the meadow, back up the hill, onto the lane and down to the tiny house and shared more tasty treats with her favorite hopping friend.

On my trip to Costa Rica last year, I met a very wise shaman who helped me start to focus on where my life should be. One of the things I brought home from that experience is the Sa Ta Na Ma meditation. He said it had helped him change his life at a time he needed to and recommended doing it for 40 days straight, before sunrise if possible. I figured, what the hell?

What strikes me as AH-mazing in this is that it completely, totally, 100% change my life. So much so, that I still wake up ready to great the day with the Sa Ta Na Ma. If I am short on time, I even do it while I am driving to work (minus the closing your eyes part...:) While I have no idea if it will work for each of you, I thought I would pass it on as a tool I know to be profoundly life changing.

Namaste.

*************SA TA NA MA MEDITATION**********************

Posture: Sit in easy pose or in a chair with your spine straight. Relax your hands on your knees.

Focus: This is called the ?L? form of meditation. With each syllable you chant, imagine energy flowing in through the top of your head and out through your third-eye point. The eyes are closed.

Breath: Your breath will come automatically as you chant.

Mantra:

Sa = Infinity, cosmos, beginning.Ta = Life, existence.Na = Death.Ma = Rebirth.
This is, literally, the cycle of creation. From the infinite comes life and individual existence. From life comes death or change. From death comes the rebirth of consciousness to the joy of the infinite through which compassion leads back to life.

Mudra: On ?Sa,? press the index finger pad to your thumb pad; on ?Ta,? press your middle finger pad to the thumb pad; on ?Na,? press the ring finger pad to the thumb pad; on ?Ma,? press the little finger pad to the thumb pad. Continue moving your fingers through this meditation, even through the silent part.

Time: 11 minutes total. Chant in a normal voice for 2 minutes; chant in a whisper for 2 minutes; go deep within yourself and chant in your head for 3 minutes. Come back to a whisper for 2 minutes, then your normal voice for 2 minutes.

End: Inhale completely, and then exhale all the air. Stretch the arms up as far as possible, stretching your spine. Spread the hands wide. Do not exhale. Take another breath before you bring your arms down to your sides in a graceful arc to end the meditation. Think of pushing down all the negativity / negative people in your life out of your aura, out of your consciousness, as you lower your arms.

Benefits: The physical benefits of the mantra are that ?Sa? evokes a sense of emotion and expansiveness, ?Ta? creates a feeling of transformation and strength, ?Na? stimulates a sense of universal love, ?Ma? evokes the quality of communicativeness. The Sa Ta Na Ma meditation actually balances both hemispheres of the brain. As you vibrate on each fingertip, you alternate your electrical polarities. The index and ring fingers are electrically negative, relative to the other fingers. This causes a balance in the electro-magnetic projection of the aura. Chanting Sa Ta Na Ma is the primal or nuclear form of ?Sat Nam.? It has the energy of the atom in it since we are breaking up the atom (or ?bij?) of the sound, ?Sat Nam.?

So one day, I wake up to this in my list of MySpace bulletins...before 6 AM mind you:

Sweet Jesus, it's only Tuesday.

I thought it was later in the week.

Ugh.

Today is going to be really bad.

I don't know why, but I found that so funny that I ended up laughing until I was crying and then calling everyone in my family to read it to them. Freshman angst is just funny to me.

Do you remember thinking the entire world revolved around what happened between bell rings in your high school? In addition to her newbie html skills that I have (as a very proud geek) passed on, its so great that we get to share a home for another three years.

About Me

Writer, local funny girl, kick ass mom, foodie and film nerd.
I am fortunate that I get to do what I want. Sometimes I write for children, sometimes for grownups. I royally piss people off or mildly amuse them. Anything in between wouldn’t be very interesting. I am making my happily ever after up as I go. Come on, you know you want to, so do it!